


Something Sweet

by kaeorin



Series: Loki's Lullabies [13]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Affection, Baking, Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Homesickness, Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:36:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23537734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaeorin/pseuds/kaeorin
Summary: Though he does his best to hide it, it’s easy for you to tell, sometimes, that Loki is homesick. You find a way to bring him a little piece of Asgard.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Series: Loki's Lullabies [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678240
Comments: 20
Kudos: 301





	Something Sweet

You got the idea one night while in bed with Loki.

It had become a sort of tradition for the two of you to take turns telling the other one stories. Really, it had started with Loki, who spun fantastical tales of Asgard for you in hopes of distracting you from your racing thoughts long enough to fall asleep. But then you’d begun to look for ways to pay him back, as it were: every night, he shared so much of himself with you, and you didn’t even have to ask for it. You’d started telling your own stories: mostly fairy tales you remembered from your childhood, because your childhood itself didn’t really make for interesting stories.

Admittedly, it was often hard for you to fall asleep while he spoke about his home, because, despite his animated manner as he told his stories, his voice was always a little soft, wistful. It wasn’t hard to tell that he was homesick. Because there was nothing else that you could do, you usually just held him a little tighter on the nights that it was his turn to speak. One night, he got onto the subject of the feasts and parties they’d had when he was young. Assisted by his illusions, you followed a tiny child Loki through one of the most memorable parties. It was like you were there. 

He kept going back to a giant table full of food and reaching for one particular item. They were small and round, almost like cream puffs but somehow more...substantial? Each time he bit into one, a kind of cream oozed out and got all over his face. You had to laugh. On his third or fourth trip back to that table, you finally asked what it was that he was eating, and Loki seemed to light up as he described the dessert to you. It was at once spiced and sweet, warm and cool, hearty and airy—it had been his favorite dessert for as long as he could remember, but of course he hadn’t had it since coming to this planet. You filed that away in the back of your mind, already toying with the idea of finding a way to recreate it. As he continued to tell his story, you observed that food table carefully, making mental notes about what the little not-cream-puffs looked like and what others kinds of treats surrounded them.

In the morning, you got to work. You’d always enjoyed baking, though you tended to stick to cakes and cookies. That dessert—which had a name that Loki had pronounced easily the night before, but which you couldn’t even hope to try to spell—was neither. So you searched through digital copies of old cookbooks, books about French pastries, websites and blogs about obscure baking methods: anything you could get your hands (or...cursor) on, you tore through. Slowly, slowly, you began to pull some ideas together. 

Obviously you had no hope of faithfully recreating an Asgardian dish with Earthly supplies or methods. It was hard, but you had to push that thought aside long before you could start playing in the kitchen. Your best hope was to chance upon something similar. You took advantage of Loki’s stories at night in order to ask about plants, spices, crops. Thankfully, you had already asked so many questions about other facets of life in Asgard that he didn’t seem overly suspicious when you worked these kinds of questions in. With information from his stories and research from the internet, gradually you gathered a list of supplies and techniques that you were ready to try.

The hard part, of course, was doing it in secret. Your place was small enough that Loki could pretty much always hear what you were doing in the kitchen, and even if that were not the case, it never took long for the smell of baking to fill every room. In hopes of disguising your efforts when you finally attempted The Dessert, you started baking a little more often, and branching out away from your usual standbys. Loki had no complaints, and was more than happy to help you sample (and finish) each of your attempts. You even got him in the habit of steering clear of the kitchen while you were baking—you told him that you were trying new things and needed as few distractions as possible. 

Finally, it was time. 

You gathered up your recipes, your research, your notes, and your best-possible approximations of the correct ingredients (gathered slowly, over a few different shopping trips, so as not to arouse too much suspicion in Loki), and did what you could. Your earlier, cover-stories-slash-practice recipes had allowed you to more or less get the hang of the kinds of techniques that this recipe required, so you...had a bit of confidence, as least as far as the technical stuff went. The actual flavors...those were more questionable.

You spent most of the afternoon baking, and trying to troubleshoot the various problems that you ran into with your methods. By the end of everything, you had several perfect little cake-puff things filled with your best attempt at some kind of cream and topped with bright red berries like in Loki’s illusions. You smoothed your hair down as you studied your attempts, and tried to get your heartbeat back under control. It’d be fine. Even if they were nothing like the Asgardian treats, they’d be tasty. It was hard to mess up pastry and cream, after all, and even if you had, Loki was easy to please when it came to your desserts.

It was hard, but you got through dinner just fine. If Loki noticed the way you fidgeted, the way you ate very little, he didn’t question you about it. You did note that his gaze seemed to grow a little heavier with each passing minute, but you both got through dinner without any issues. As soon as he finally put his fork back down on his plate, you all but leapt out of your seat to clear the table. He put his hand out to stop you.

“What has gotten into you?” he asked. He tightened his fingers around your wrist, just in case you tried to break away from him. You were tempted, but resisted the urge. Still, you drew your lower lip between your teeth as you tried to come up withj a decent explanation for him.

“I tried something new today and I’m just really anxious for you to try it, that’s all.” The truth was usually the safest bet with Loki. Sure enough, sharp eyes studied your face, searching for any signs of falsehood. “I’ll get it now, okay? Will you try it?”

He was slow to answer, and something in his face told you that he was still not entirely convinced that all was well. But he did nod and release you, so you could dump the dishes into the sink and take your desserts out of the refrigerator. It was hard to know exactly where you were supposed to store them after baking. French cream puffs weren’t really supposed to get filled with cream until just before they were served, because otherwise they’d get all soggy, but the cream for these things was thick enough that you’d hoped they’d be okay. It probably would have been better to store them out on the counter, so the pastry would have been warm upon serving, but...ah, well. 

You did your best to keep your hands from shaking as you set the platter down on the table in front of Loki. It was probably best not to say anything about what you’d tried, you decided, lest you get his hopes up and then let him down. You weren’t sure you could handle watching his face fall in disappointment. So you didn’t look at him even as you reached to take one for yourself. He started to speak, but cut himself off before he could get very far. When he tried again, he merely said your name. You looked up from your berry to attempt a smile at him. He looked...dumbfounded.

“Don’t get too excited,” you said, not trusting your voice enough to speak any louder than a mumble. “I don’t… I can’t imagine Earth would have any ingredients close enough to make the actual thing, okay?” Nervously, you picked the berry off of your pastry and popped it into your mouth. You barely tasted it. You wanted to look away as Loki took his first bite, but...you couldn’t. The cream oozed out much like it had in Loki’s illusions, which made you smile, but you kept your eyes fixed on his face. His eyes slipped closed as if in bliss, and he chewed quietly. Thoughtfully. 

When he was finished chewing, he put the pastry back down in front of him and licked some of the cream off of his fingers. He still had yet to say a word. When he stood up, your stomach twisted anxiously: maybe he felt he needed to leave the room so you couldn’t see him deal with his disappointment? But he came around to your side of the table and pulled you from your seat, and then crashed his lips down against yours in a sweet, sticky kiss. He held you so tightly, kissed you so deeply, that it made your head spin. Ages later, when he finally broke the kiss, he pressed his forehead against yours and breathed deeply.

“What could I possibly have done, in this life or any other, even to come close to deserving someone like you?” He sounded like he was praying. He kept his arms wrapped tightly around you, like maybe he was afraid you would disappear. 

“So...it’s...is it...okay?” Maybe it was silly to ask, after a reaction like this, but you wanted to be absolutely certain. He kissed you again, this time gripping your face tenderly in his hands.

“You are magic. I don’t know how, but you have given me something that I have longed for for ages now. It’s okay. It’s good. It’s phenomenal.” He walked you backwards several steps to press you against the wall and looked at you with a fire in his eyes that made your knees wobble. “Is _this_ what you’ve been working on so tirelessly on your computer?”

You nodded, not an easy task with the way he was still cupping your cheeks. “I wanted to get it right. Er... As close to _right_ as I could. I wanted to try to give you back a piece of your home.” In any other situation, you might felt kind of silly saying something like that to him, but there was still something about the way he was looking at you that reassured you. He kissed you again, not quite as deeply this time, but with every bit of the same feeling as before. When he pulled away again, he kissed the tip of your nose, each of your cheeks, your eyelids, your chin, your jawline.

“ _You_ are my home now.” This was scarcely more than a whisper, and he closed his eyes, perhaps for a bit of privacy. Heart racing, you caressed his cheeks. 

He was yours.


End file.
